Easy Come, Easy Go
by CabooseHeart
Summary: Fem!Grif Three-Shot. Grif wasn't like other girls, she preferred to play video games and watch sports rather than dress-up and play with dolls. However, this only increases when she finds out that her little brother is to be sent to war, thanks to a one man draft. Fearing for his safety, Grif takes up the identity of her brother, running off to the war. (More of description inside)
1. No-So Subtle Secrets

**Easy Come, Easy Go**

**Part 1: Not-So-Subtle Secrets**

**Description: Fem!Grif Three-Shot. Grif wasn't like other girls, she preferred to play video games and watch sports rather than dress up and play with dolls. However, this only increases when she finds out that her little brother is to be sent to war, thanks to a one man draft. Fearing for his safety, Grif takes up the identity of her brother, running off to the war. However, she has no idea that her brother has followed after her, on top of that, it's getting harder and harder to hide her true gender from the Blood Gulch crew... especially that Simmons guy...**

**A/N: Originally posted on my Supercasey account on AO3.**

* * *

_Third Person POV; Grif Family_

_One Year Prior_

"You've been drafted?"

Brother, AKA Kaiden Grif, gave his older sister a sad look, looking into those amber colored irises sadly as he realized that this was it, he was going to leave for basic in the morning, but he knew, oh he knew, he wasn't meant for war. Kaiden Grif was never born for war, he was born to be a famous model or actor, while his sister was born for an unknown purpose. Their father was gone, having joined the circus, leaving Destiny Grif to watch after Kaiden, who was still only eighteen, but had somehow gotten drafted anyways.

Kaiden knew that Destiny was upset, and so was he, but the humans were in the middle of an ungodly war that required any guns they could get their hands on, which, now, included young Kaiden. The teenage boy smiled warily at Destiny, taking in her worried stance and terrified eyes, which was a rare sight on her. Destiny had always been strong; a fighter, she had beaten on anyone dumb enough to tease Kaiden, who had always been a lover really.

"Yeah, I've been drafted." Kaiden confirmed for the millionth time that day. "But don't you worry, I'll be back in one piece. Fuck it, I'll totally steal a freaking Grunt lung, that would be awesome!"

Destiny wasn't buying Kaiden's faked happiness, seeing right through and into his fear. "What time are you leaving at?" She asked, arms crossed as she leaned on his bedroom wall.

The two had decided to talk in Kaiden's bedroom, where he had been spending the afternoon calling his friends to say goodbye and packing his stuff. It was hard on everyone, seeing as the whole neighborhood had known the Grif family for years, so seeing Kaiden run off to a war they knew he wouldn't survive... it was heartbreaking, especially for Destiny, who had spent most of her post-high school years taking care of Kaiden, skipping college completely.

"I'll be gone by six AM or whatever tomorrow morning, so... I guess this is goodbye, wouldn't expect you to wake up that early for me, sis." Kaiden explained, hugging Destiny tightly, despite her usual distaste for hugging and kissing between them. "Don't worry about it, I'll come back soon."

Destiny looked away, sighing deeply as she ran a hand through her long, hazel hair, trying to rid herself of the tenseness running through her bones. "How about we just... get take-out tonight, 'kay?" She asked, hoping to change the subject for now.

Kaiden nodded, smiling at his sister. "Yeah, and we can play video games too! Come on, last one to the Game Slasher gets the unlucky orange controller!"

"What!?" Destiny yelled, watching as Kaiden ran off with a head start, laughing his head off as he did so. "You get back here, asshole! I hate the orange one, the buttons stick!"

* * *

She had left.

That night, while Kaiden was asleep, Destiny had grabbed her things and had entered Kaiden's bedroom, not making a sound as she approached his nightstand, where a folded up copy of his drafting paper was. She picked it up soundlessly, tucking it into her backpack before leaning down, pressing a small kiss to her little brother's temple. She wasn't used to being so free with her inner emotions, but geez, she was leaving her brother for war, she had the right to be open with herself.

"Aloha ʻOe." Destiny whispered quietly, leaving the room soon after to enter their apartment's tiny kitchen.

She looked around, gazing at everything from the cruddy childhood scribbles taped onto the fridge to the half-eaten pizza on the coffee table. Destiny sighed deeply, knowing that if her brother had hardly a chance at surviving war, she probably had none what-so-ever. However, she would not let Kaiden go off to fight, he was too young, too naive, and he'd be dead before the first drop. Destiny gulped, glaring at the drafts paper as she pulled it out, hating every printed word on it's scratchy surface.

"Goddammit." Destiny muttered again, she had been saying it over and over these last few days, knowing from the start what she was going to do. "I'm going to regret this, I'm going to regret this so much. I'm going to go to war and be sent to prison for impersonating my brother, just... Jesus Christ, I hate everything." She shoved the paper back into her bag, strolling over to the front door.

"Well... bye, 'lil bro. See you in the afterlife." Destiny grumbled, leaving the only home she'd ever known with the soft click of a deadbolt lock closing behind her as she left, walking away into the darkness of the night.

* * *

_SECOND PERSON POV; Grif_

After a full year in the military, you decide that you're either really lucky or indestructible, you can't tell, all you know is that you're by some miracle still alive and have a chance to maybe, just maybe, make it home to Kaiden alive. You had gone through basic training on Earth, thankfully undetected as a chick, and were soon sent off to some crummy canyon on some shitty planet. Now, you are still alive, standing close to a man named Dick Simmons, who seems deep into his little one-sided conversation with you. You're honestly surprised to still be alive, but honestly, like you mentioned, you're either one lucky bastard or damn near indestructible.

"You even listening, Grif?" Simmons asks, looking at you from behind a maroon helmet.

"Huh?" You inquire, giving Simmons an odd look from behind your own helmet, before it clicks that Simmons must've asked you something. "Oh, yeah, keep going or whatever." You respond smoothly. You've never been one to be nervous, Destiny Grif.

Simmons makes a loud, irritating sigh. "Goddammit, Grif. I can't even talk without you ignoring me." He explains, exasperated. "For once, can you just listen to me talk to you!?"

You shrug halfheartedly, rolling your eyes underneath your helmet in secret. "Not my fault you're boring as fuck." You state simply, turning away from the man.

"Where are you going NOW?" Simmons asks.

"To eat, dumbass. Need anything, can't guarantee it'll be uneaten by the time I get back though." You explain, hopping off of the base's roof with ease.

Simmons groans. "But we're on patrol! What if we're attacked?"

"Then I die with a full stomach." You say, ignoring Simmons as you waltz inside of the base.

The inside of the Red Base it's much, much cooler. The air in Blood Gulch is naturally hot, which you don't mind one bit, seeing as you've lived with additional heated conditions your whole life. In fact, the base itself feels especially cold to you, making you shiver when without your armor (Which isn't often). You look around, careful to not let Sarge know that you skipped patrol, as you hurry over to the bathroom. You lied when you said you were getting food, okay, not totally lying, but still, that's not your main mission right now. Right now, your only concern is the growing red stain in your panties. You dash (More like speed-walk) through the hallways, quickly ducking into the bathroom as soon as you reach it.

You look around, trying to spot the familiar red armor of your Sargent or the incredibly girly showering supplies of Donut. You sigh with relief when you see no one is around, quickly tiptoeing over to the closet near the showers. After opening the closet door, you give the room another once over. Once you're satisfied enough to relax, you quickly pull off your helmet. You toss the armor piece aside, digging behind a few shower supplies and towels until you find a small, locked box labeled 'PORN' (The only sure-fire way to keep Sarge and Simmons out) and open it, pulling out a few pads. After getting the essential items, you re-lock the box and tuck it away, hurrying over to an open bathroom stall.

You duck in, quickly pulling off your armor and placing it in a messy pile, unconcerned about where it is, as long as it's off. After losing your under-suit, you pull off your underwear, grimacing at the red spot that's made residence on the once soft material. "Dammit," You curse, pulling the panties off quickly. "Fucking stained, knew I should've worn a pad this morning, before it could've started."

After safely tossing out the ruined panties (Stuffing them into the bottom of a trashcan), you grab a new pair, quickly sticking a new pad on the inside after wiping yourself off a bit. You quickly relieve yourself, wanting to take care of everything before you begin putting back on your under-suit, only to hear the shower room doors open. You keep silent, awaiting for any familiar voices of any kind. You bite down a groan when you hear Simmons and Sarge. By the sound of it, Simmons is tattling on you about skipping patrol. You remind yourself to punch him in the arm later.

"Have you seen him yet, sir?" Simmons asks, sounding the slightest bit concerned. "He said he was getting something to eat... but he wasn't in the bathroom."

"Dammit, Simmons! Now we can't even find Grif, and the Blues are by no doubts planing an attack at this very moment, and we need Grif for ammo!" Sarge argues, you hear him toss over a trashcan, you can only hope it's not the one you tossed your panties into earlier.

Simmons seems to think it over for a second. "But... Grif never brings the ammo, sir."

"I know that, Simmons! Doesn't mean we can't use him as a cannonball if we get ahold of that there tank at Blue Base... heh heh, those Blues'll never see it coming!" Sarge explains, you think he's probably grinning under his helmet at the thought.

"I completely agree, sir." Simmons says way too eagerly. You almost want to barf in response, but, surprisingly, you've managed to shut up and keep quiet.

You listen, hoping that by some miracle, both men leave so you can get re-dressed and breakout of here, hopefully just to get threatened by Sarge instead of getting found out. After awhile, it becomes clear that they're still searching, tossing over shit and looking under benches. "Come on out, Grif! Where the fuck are you?" You think Simmons turns to Sarge. "Sir, I don't think he's in here."

"Probably right... dammit, I coulda sworn I heard him!" Sarge yells, following after Simmons as they leave the room, but not without one last threat. "I swear, Grif, when I find ya, you're getting a full helping of shotgun!" Sarge reloads said shotgun, making you gulp.

After they're gone, you slip out, everything but your helmet on. You search frantically, finally finding it under a bench. You sigh with pure relief, glad that no one had seen it, or else they would've started to breakdown the stalls. You click it on, leaving the bathroom to hopefully find Simmons before Sarge can find you, who knows, maybe the jerk-off will cover for you?

* * *

_SECOND PERSON POV; Simmons  
_

Your name is Richard Simmons, a private of the Red Army. Your current mission is to not only protect the base you reside in, but apparently to keep your eyes on a certain fatass you know. You enter your bedroom, completely worn out after two hours of searching for said fatass, an orange private named Kaiden Grif. You open the door with ease, gasping in surprise at the sight before you.

Grif is there, completely asleep and snoring loudly as he lays sprawled out on your bed, a half empty bag of chips covering his chest, but that's not what's making you gasp. It's Grif's face. You've never seen him- er, her, apparently- without the orange helmet blocking your view. First of all, wow, you seriously thought Grif was a man, secondly, she has really long and hazel hair, third, back the fuck up, she's gorgeous. Sure, she's a bit chubby, but alot of people are, yet it fails to bother you. You tilt your head, watching the woman with a bit of fear even, seeing as you just realized that for the past year or so, you've been shooting the breeze with a gorgeous woman.

You tiptoe around Grif, careful to not wake her, and reach into your small rat cage by your bed, where you keep your rodent. You gently scoop Bungie up, petting the grey and white rat's fur carefully as you both lay your eyes on Grif. Bungie twitches his nose curiously, sniffing the air around himself, especially on your gloved hands. You set him down, and no, you don't give two shits if Donut has a panic attack seeing Bungie out and about. That guy can just deal with Bungie if he doesn't like him. You turn your attention back to Grif (If that is her real last name) and shake her shoulder, furrowing your brow under your helmet.

"Grif!" You say, trying to not alert Sarge, Donut, or Lopez, who're all still searching. "Wake up, fatass!"

"Shut up..." Grif mutters, shoving her face into your pillow angrily. She pauses, running a hand through her hair, perfectly aware of her lack of a helmet now that her senses have rebooted. "Fuck, is this a nightmare? Please say yes."

You're tempted to say yes, but to your better judgement, you tell the truth. "This is real life, Grif. Wake up, you've got some serious shit to explain."

Grif groans, rolling over and ducking her head under your blankets. "Fuck off, Simmons. There's nothing to talk about."

As much patience as you have for Grif, it quickly starts running out here and now. You grab the blanket, yanking it off. You glare down at Grif, watching as the brunet glares right back at you. "Oh yes you do! How the fuck are you a girl!?"

"Oh..." Grif says, examining herself. "Right... yeah, that might need to be explained, but only a little bit."

You pull up a chair, facing Grif and staring into her hazel eyes. "Tell me everything... from start to finish. Why you're in the military, who Kaiden Grif is, just... tell me."

And so she does. Grif goes on and on about her past, telling you that Kaiden is her baby brother who she's been raising ever since her father took off on them. She talks to you about her brother, how nice and innocent he is, about what it was like to just sit around and do nothing on a perfect Hawaiian day. It sounds nice and surreal, but you pick together a few things as she talks. She faked being happy alot, to please her brother, she also worked alot to keep money going for their tiny apartment, not to mention paying for Kaiden's future college classes.

After a bit, Grif's story comes to a close, making you stare at her in a new light. "Wow, Grif... that was... beautiful."

Grif blows a raspberry in retaliation, reminding you that you've known this side of Grif for almost a year now. "Please!" She exclaims, staring at you blankly. "That was nothing, besides, it wasn't that amazing or beautiful, or whatever gay slang you might use for it. Anyhow... just, don't fucking tell Sarge."

"Why not?" You ask, giving her an odd look.

"Well... Lopez and Donut already know- don't ask how, I'll tell you later- but Sarge... if he knew, it would be the perfect chance to ruin my life. He'd call me out on it, get me sent home, and Kaiden could get his ass tossed into prison if that happened. Also, I could get executed for that shit. Wouldn't that just make Sarge's day?" Grif explains, actual worry showing on her face. "Look just... keep your damn mouth shut, 'kay?"

You nod numbly, still amazed by this whole turn of events. "Uh... okay. Yeah, I can keep quiet, just... why didn't you tell me before?"

"Oh." Grif says, grinning at you as she stands, almost sitting in your lap as she crouches down in front of you. "I just can't help watching you worry about being gay for me..." And she kisses you, then and there.

You've never kissed a girl before, and you're starting to think that Grif hasn't either, but she might've kissed a boy once or twice before, either that or she's learned how to through movies and porn. But you don't care, it's nice, and you try to kiss back the way people in those Hollywood classics do. After a minute, Grif pulls back, grinning at you like a bobcat, or a puma as she might put it. She stands, walking away with a look on her face, as if she's just won the fucking lottery. You sigh, shaking your head as you watch Bungie hop back onto your lap, giving you an oh-so innocent look.

"You knew, didn't you?" You ask, watching Bungie wiggle his ears and rub against your armored palm. "Fucking traitor, could've warned me she was a girl... I shall forgive you though."

You silently decide that today has been a good day, despite the earlier events of going on a wild Grif hunt. Yeah, definitely a good day.

* * *

_SECOND PERSON POV; Sarge  
_

Your name is Mathew Sargent, and you have zero idea why bloody panties are in your base. You're not only the commanding Sargent of the Red Team stationed in Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha, but you are also your own man, a man who is most certainly confused. You know Donut isn't a girl, as much as you like to tell him he's one, and Lopez wasn't programed to be a female or have periods. So how in God's name has a pair of light pink, frilly panties covered in blood fallen onto the locker room floor of Red Base?

You briefly try to remember if there are any girls on Blue Team. Caboose isn't a girl, and neither is Church, Heaven forbid Tucker to be a lady, he'd just sit there touching himself all day (Or hitting on boys). You look around, trying to find any further evidence in the turned over trashcan that had once held the panties, only to find nothing but the remains of a pad wrapper. You grumble a bit to yourself. This all must surely be Grif's fault, that dirtbag always causes trouble and lets his team down.

"Donut! Get yer ass in here!" You order, hearing your ever present Southern accent. "I think I found somethin'."

"Coming!" Donut calls, quickly entering the locker room to stand before you with a salute, his short Mohawk waving a bit from the air conditioning in the air-vents. "Reporting for duty, sir!"

You bite back any retort you might be tempted to say. "Shut yer mouth and look here! Does this belong to you?" You hold out the offending underwear, watching Donut scan it with his eyes curiously.

Donut flinches, a movement you easily notice. "Who does this belong to, boy?" You ask sternly, knowing how bad of a liar Donut is.

"Um..." Donut stares at the floor, obviously finding his tennis shoes far more interesting. "...I dunno..." He lies very quietly, like a timid mouse.

"Out with it, soldier!" You snap irritably, glaring a heated stare at your youngest and newest recruit.

Donut yelps in discomfort at your sharp tone. "I'm sorry, Sarge! She made me promise not to tell on her!" He argues pitifully.

"Donut..." You say in a dangerous tone, eyebrows furrowed in an angry and terrifying glare. "You tell me exactly who these pantaloons belong to before I rip yer lungs out!"

"Grif! They belong to Grif, please don't tell her I told you!" Donut finally says, taking off while you stand there, completely stunned.

You gaze at the panties, furrowing your brow. Grif? That can't be right. That man is the least feminine soldier you've ever met, and that includes Tex! But... if Tex can pass off for being biologically female, anyone can... even Grif. You curse several hundred times under your breath, holding the panties in a dead grip as you stomp off, intent on cornering Grif and getting the truth out of him... or her.

Wow.

That will take some getting used to.

* * *

_SECOND PERSON POV; Grif_

"Grif! You get yer ass over here!"

You, Destiny Grif, look up with little interest at your Sargent. The man towers over you, but that would be expected, seeing as you're sprawled out upon the couch like a lazy old dog... or a lazy cat, whichever anyone chooses (Simmons would say a lazy rat; you'd punch him in the arm). Sarge has short, white hair, and shockingly icy blue eyes, which sorta counter your hazel browns that lie underneath your helmet. Not that he'd know that. You two are opposites in this war, even on the same team, you two remain opposing enemies in a sense.

"What?" You ask lazily, arms stationed happily behind your head as you stifle a loud yawn. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sarge glares at you still, suddenly holding up your panties from earlier. You shoot up, eyes wide as saucers and your tongue twisting into rather clever knots, while your mind does about eighteen back-flips. "I can explain!" You scream out, figuring you might just look horrified under your helmet.

"I'm sure you can." Sarge says bluntly, foot tapping to a steady beat.

You stare at Simmons, who stands across the room, looking just as scared as you. "Don't look at me," He yells, looking worried that you might be blaming him. "I didn't say shit!"

You notice Donut squirming, and glare with all your might at the pink rookie, who looks nervous and apologetic. "I'm sorry." He whispers, looking ashamed.

"So... why are you a... girl?" Sarge asks, crossing his arms as he raises an eyebrow at you, looking to have had a hard time saying the word 'girl'. There's no smug smirk or anger filled eyes, just disappointment and a touch of curiosity. "I expect you to answer me Private Kaiden Grif... if that's even your real name."

"I'm Destiny." You correct sharply, feeling angered as you finally let it sink into the air. "May as well be honest with you all. My name is Destiny Grif, I took my little brother's place and joined the Space Marines after he was drafted in. I couldn't let him go to war, he's a dumbass at heart, and he'd get killed by the first Covvie he sees." You explain.

Sarge nods, taking it in. "Any reason you never told us?"

"You think I'd ever tell you?" You ask in a rather snarky manner, almost grinning with hidden anger at your senior officer. "You'd get my ass sent home, Kaiden would be signed up, and I'd be in prison. I'd probably die, and you'd be free of having me around. So why in God's name should I have ever let you find out?"

"I see your point." Sarge says, arms uncrossing slowly. "But do you really think I could send a lady to prison?"

What?

"I mean, yer a bit soft..." Sarge trails off, not wanting to come off as sexist.

You sigh, scolding yourself for not remembering. Yeah, Sarge is a bit sexist, sure, but that's alot better than him ruining your life and sending you back home. "So... you're not gonna send me home?" You inquire, grinning a bit.

Sarge sighs, shaking his head. "No... no, I wouldn't do that, Grif. As much as I hate you, and find you unattractive, annoying, selfish, dumb, lazy, retarded-"

"Get on with it." You snap.

"-I still give a damn on whether you survive or not." Sarge finishes, suddenly blushing a bit. "Also, we need the advantage over Blue Team, so there! If you expect any of that sappy 'I love you' bullshit, then go ask that Caboose fella for it, 'cus you ain't getting nothin' more outta me." He declares, walking away after tossing the panties on your lap. "I suggest burning that before those dirty Blues try to root through our trash."

You kinda just sit there, staring off after Sarge with wide eyes. You hold up the panties, studying them carelessly. "Well... that was... eventful." You mutter, eyes wide still as the pink lace twists in your armored grasp.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

**~CabooseHeart.**


	2. Nail-Polish

**Easy Come, Easy Go**

**Part 2: Nail-Polish  
**

**Description: Fem!Grif One-Shot. Grif wasn't like other girls, she preferred to play video games and watch sports rather than dress up and play with dolls. However, this only increases when she finds out that her little brother is to be sent to war, thanks to a one man draft. Fearing for his safety, Grif takes up the identity of her brother, running off to the war. However, she has no idea that her brother has followed after her, on top of that, it's getting harder and harder to hide her true gender from the Blood Gulch crew... especially that Simmons guy...**

**A/N: PART TWO! Future warning, some of these scenes are a bit out of order, but they should hopefully make sense at the end.**

* * *

_Destiny: 9, Kaiden: 3 THIRD PERSON POV_

"Daddy, what're you doing?"

Kaiden Grif looked up at once, well, more down really, at his daughter. The little girl was perched on the step-up stool in front of him, looking at the man expectantly. The man sighed deeply, but wore a faked smile as he scooped Destiny onto his lap, ruffling the girl's hair. Destiny giggled in response, nuzzling against her father without hesitation. Again, the man sighed, but he tried to hide his fatigue from Destiny, but Destiny was a smart girl, and was able to hear and understand the noise. She pushed herself away a bit, hazel eyes wide with worry as she stared up at her father.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Destiny asked, looking at her father carefully.

The man bit his lip, not wanting to tell Destiny everything. "Nothing, baby cakes. _Um_... _so_, I heard you got into a fight at school today, is that right?" His voice became more parental, returning back to a different problem.

Destiny looked away, glaring daggers at the floor. "It wasn't a big fight... he deserved it."

"Destiny, that's the second fight this month. The school is very concerned." Her dad explained, looking at Destiny sternly. "Baby cakes, are you hiding something from me?"

"Well... they were calling you names, Daddy!" Destiny insisted, glaring right back at her father, but not with nearly as much vigor. She would not inherit that skill for a few more years.

"What did they call me, Destiny?" Her dad asked, hoping to press for more information from the small girl, who was trying to distract herself by twirling her hair idly. "You can tell me, I won't get mad."

Destiny swallowed, feeling uneasy. "I don't know what they meant _but_... they said you were a slut and a whore, and it sounded really mean 'cus they said I was one too, _so I hit them_!"

Her father nodded, breathing just a bit harsher. He hated it when Destiny tried to defend him like this, especially since it always ended in violence, but his little girl was a fighter, and she refused to be teased. "_Look_, baby cakes. I appreciate that you'd fight to protect my name, but these fights have _gotta stop_. Can you make Daddy a promise?"

"Yeah." Destiny replied, smiling hopefully up at her dad.

"Promise me... that even if I disappear, you're gonna stop fighting so much. Promise me you'll look after Junior and your mother if something happens, okay?" The man stared down at Destiny, seeing a matching pair of his own hazel eyes returning his stare.

Destiny swallowed again, nodding hesitantly. "I promise." She said, crossing her heart. "So... what's for dinner?"

The father laughed. "Haha, still only interested in what matters, aren't you?"

Destiny laughed along with her father, not knowing at the time that come morning, her father will have left with only a note, bills, and a wad of cash behind for her. But she didn't know that as her daddy held her up, grinning at her chubby face and tickling her like mad. No, it was better, in a way, that she hadn't known she was going to lose him.

* * *

_Second Person POV; Grif_

Time passes alot faster than you expected it to, Destiny... or should you be called Grif? You've taken a liking to that title, haven't you? Makes you feel stronger, less open and expressed to the world. You never liked having the spotlight, and thanks to your lazy attitude, it looks like you'll never have it. Well, _good riddance_, the spotlight can kiss your ass and have the door slap it's ass on the way out. But in other news, yeah, time has been moving like lightning for you, Grif. And guess what? You honestly don't give a fuck.

Days had turned to weeks before you knew it, passing by at record speeds that you'd bet even Doc couldn't outrun. Speaking of Doc, said medic recently took Lopez prisoner after some kinda fucked up AI named O'Malley took over his head or whatever. When Church had explained it, you weren't listening. Now, you find yourself in a small, shitty cell across from said blue, who seems just as much of a jerk-off asshole as you... if you weren't in a relationship with Simmons, you might actually consider going out with him, but you don't. Despite being kind of a bitch, you're surprisingly loyal, Grif.

"So, are you and that maroon dude seriously fucking or what?" Church asks after a moment of extended silence, in which you were having your totally awesome monologue, which he has now ruined.

You raise an eyebrow under the clearly orange helmet ("I am _FUCKING._ _ORANGE_!"), not really seeming to care. However, you're kinda bored, and an inner monologue can only be entertaining for so long. "Yeah, what's it to ya?"

Church puts his hands up in mock surrender, as if he actually expects you to get up from your side of the cell and punch his teeth in. He shouldn't be expecting shit from you, Destiny. Now, if he were a few feet closer, _that_ would be a whole different story. "Sorry, man. Just... didn't know you _swung that way_, if you get what I'm saying."

It takes you a minute to realize that, no, the Blue Team hasn't learned you're a chick yet. Of course, you at this point don't care if they do or not. Sure, Tucker might start trying to play a move on you, but hey, you're still with Simmons, not like he'll get very far with that dream. "I'm not gay, if that's what you're trying to suggest here, buddy."

"But you're a _dude,_" Church tells you, as if you're some kinda retarded donkey who believes herself to be a majestic unicorn. "Simmons is a dude too, and if you two are actually fucking, that kinda makes you gay, man."

"Who ever said I was a _dude_?" You ask, smiling at the way Church jumps a bit, as if he were a startled rabbit who just realized that a huge, grey wolf had them cornered. "Just because I'm in the military doesn't make me magically grow a dick."

Church fucking _stutters_, and it's at this point that you're almost certain that Church must've had a terrible speech impediment as a little kid. He probably got teased big time for it in school. Probably forced himself to get better at hiding it, until no one even noticed that he had a lisp or not. Probably got nervous too, judging by the way he seems to back up, despite already being pressed against the cell wall. He stares at you from behind his cobalt helmet, looking you up and down curiously, as if he's looking at a whole new species of animal that no man has ever seen.

"That's _bullshit_, man!" Church yells after a second, while he's still attempting to hide his stuttering. "No way, no how! You've _gotta_ be a dude!"

"I can prove it." You state matter-of-factly, grinning from ear to ear under your helmet, watching for any signs of doubt from your companion.

Church scoffs, probably rolling his eyes at you, not that you'd put it past him. He's alot like you. "Yeah _right_. I seriously doubt that, Grif. I've known you for a _year_ now, think I wouldn't have noticed by now?"

"Not really." You admit, shrugging halfheartedly, as you tend to do. "As far as I've seen, your team is kinda fucking _dumb_, so I'm guessing you're dumb too. But enough horseshit, time to prove your ass wrong." You grab your helmet, feeling the way it smooths your gloves tightly against your sweaty palms. "Prepare to be _amazed_."

"I'm _shaking_ with anticipation." Church replies, more or less jazz-handing his hands in the air dramatically, before setting both of his arms comfortably behind his helmeted head, looking over the show you're about to put on arrogantly.

You yank the helmet off, not really minding the small sting it leaves on your neck. Not like you haven't felt worse pains before. You feel your dark brown hair fall across your back, having been uncut for some time, making it become long and tangled beyond your control. You crack your neck out of a forced habit, letting your muscles relax as your hazel eyes station themselves on Church, who now looks far less relaxed if you do say so yourself. You can't help but smirk.

"Enjoying the view?" You ask teasingly, fluttering your eyelashes a bit for added effect.

Church sputters like crazy, his mind obviously doing flips at the sudden revelation. You don't make an effort to explain yourself, simply taking to lying back like Church had moments ago, arms behind your head and a smirk ever apparent on your well tanned face. You wonder how crazy Church must feel at the moment, having never known that the guy he plays Poker with every Friday night was actually and most definitely a chick. Not only that, but that chick was gorgeous (You added that last bit yourself).

"_Well_, aren't you gonna give a girl an answer?" You ask, after you become bored by Church's reaction, favoring more positive results soon. "Come on, Church. You can't say you didn't see it coming, and if you didn't, then, well, you need your fucking eyes checked."

Church doesn't really respond, instead, he flops onto his side, groaning loudly and irritably. "Goddamn, man. I mean, I heard rumors that there was a chick on Red Team, but man, I totally thought it was Donut or Simmons. Not you!"

"It doesn't change anything, I'm still me." You claim, staring at Church intently. "Come on, you owe me."

"Owe you _what_?" Church asks angrily, glaring at you probably.

You smirk. "I removed my helmet, I think you owe me by losing your's too. It won't be that bad, I'm sure you're not _that_ ugly." You know that you're challenging him, but you don't care. You've wanted to see his face for some time now.

Church grumbles something lost to your ears, but with a heavy sigh, he removes his own cobalt helmet and places it under his arm, much like an army general would. You silently wonder if his old captain used to do that. Church looks younger than you expected, but he's still older than you by far. He has bushy, jet black hair that curls endlessly, while his eyes are an outrageous shade of ivy green. He has a short, scraggly beard that takes up quite a bit of his face, but it looks fitting on him. He raises an eyebrow at you, just as you always imagined he would.

"Enjoying the view?" He jokes, copying your teasing question from earlier. "What, thought I'd be some hideous old man?"

"_Naw_, always knew you were older than me." You state, smiling a bit at the newly made mental image of Leonard Church. "By the way, I guess you know my name isn't _really_ Kaiden."

"I'd hope not." Church says, chuckling a bit at his own joke.

You chuckle back, and no, it wasn't a giggle, whoever told you that is a _fucking liar_. "It's Destiny, Destiny Grif." You explain.

"Destiny? Weird fucking name." Church states dryly, not at all impressed.

"Yeah, and Leonard is the _least_ nerdy name I've _ever_ heard in my life." You shoot back, smiling as Church looks away, muttering some kind of profanity.

All in all, these weren't the worst five hours of your life (Or seven hours, as you've started to insist to Church).

* * *

A week passes. You get zapped to the future; shit goes down. In short, you eventually do alot of complicated stuff that leads to you and Simmons kissing aggressively alone in the Warthog, which you have parked comfortably in the shade. You only plan on spending a few hours here with him, but hey, it's not like Sarge will come looking for you two unless he has a damn good reason to... on that last notion, he might come at any moment. But you don't care. All you care about is the tall nerd who's kissing you.

You ignore the fact that you're more than a head shorter than Simmons, you ignore the fact that Simmons's rat Bungie is licking your cheek while Simmons holds you down in the drivers seat, you ignore the fact that you are a soldier at war and that inter-team dating is probably illegal right now. You ignore it all, just focusing on kissing back against this nerd's sweetness, feeling for the first time in awhile normal and out of harm's way.

For once, you feel safe in somebody's arms.

Yeah, you'll never admit that outloud, like, _ever_.

Before you can do much more, you start hearing footsteps... _perfect_. "Hey, _guys_!" Donut yells, dashing over to the two of you, his hand wrapped in a bloody gauze from his earlier 'Bunny Soup Can' incident. "What're you up to?"

"_Nothing_." You state, pushing Simmons away a bit as you glare at the young rookie. "What the _fuck_ is going on _now_?"

"Tex is back!" Donut explains.

You and Simmons exchange a look, before hopping out of the Warthog, taking off to regroup with the female Freelancer. Now might be a good time to recollect a bit of information. As soon as Tex came around in Blood Gulch (A week before your identity was revealed to the Red Team), she had attempted to kill you and the rest of the Reds. Thankfully, she had been captured, but in the process she had somehow managed to figure out you were a chick (You still wonder how she found out). After that, you had started paying her off to keep her mouth shut.

Seeing as you now pay off Tex, a new level of worry happens to wash over you every time said Freelancer rolls into town. You thought you had been free of her after she seemed to disappear during the time travel, but it seems that she's survived. _Great_, just _perfect_. Tex is back and you're out of cash to pay her off with. You could always ask Simmons for help, but you're not exactly keen on just borrowing his money to pay off some Freelancer. You silently decide as you hurry off to see Tex, that you and her will be needing to have a little _'chat'_ at some point. Hopefully soon.

* * *

By the time you get to the beach, Tucker, Caboose, Sarge, Donut, and Simmons have already arrived (Simmons and Donut had easily outrun you), causing you to end up late. The beach is warm despite the wind from the sea nearby, reminding you of home. You shake the memories away. You need to focus right now, not think about Hawaii. Tex looks as dangerous as ever, her armor covered in different scratches and scar-like markings from past fights. At her feet is a... _bowling ball? _Okay, _yeah_, you have zero idea what it is to be perfectly honest. Maybe it's a bomb?

"Glad to see you made it." Tex says, signaling for you to wait a second before any secret business can be done. "So, I've got a plan to stop O'Malley."

"Does it involve any team-killing?" Sarge of course questions, just as you would expect him to.

Amazingly, despite his desire to never hurt a woman, Sarge seems to give literally zero fucks if you're female. He still wants you dead and miserable. Well, whatever, as long as he isn't sending you home to get caught as a fraud, you don't care what he does, just as long as he keeps your secret a secret. You take a minute to stare at Tex, who stares right back at you, causing a rather large rift of silence to overcome the scene. The others stare at the two of you, not daring to say a word.

"You two okay?" Tucker asks, looking legitimately concerned for a moment.

"_Peachy_." Tex answers, before you have a chance to say jackshit. "Just... it's absolutely nothing. Now, where was I? Oh, _right_, the _mission_..."

* * *

One failed plan, a shot Lopez head, a dead Red Dude, twenty-four rounds of bullets, and one returned Blue later, you find yourself alone with Tex, resting up for the night in the large, expansive windmill. The place is huge, reminding you of volcanoes and some of the old buildings from Basic. You sit comfortably on an old cot, having recently removed your armor and now sit before Tex, watching her closely.

Tex has long, blonde hair that reaches her lower back. Her eyes are a grey-blue, blazing with a certain _'I'll snap your neck, bitch'_ sort of flare. You don't comment on it, despite the temptation to do so. She wears a black tank-top, along with pink boxers that make you think she borrowed them from Donut, but you don't bother asking, seeing as you hardly care. She shines her newly found Sniper Rifle, smiling as the black metal glimmers from the light reflected off of it from a lit candle on the floor between you two.

Tex looks at you closely, reading you like a book. "You're out of loot, aren't ya, Grif?" She asks, and honestly, you're kind of surprised she's not mad, not demanding that you find another way to pay her off- "Of course, we can come up with another solution to your little _'problem'_." -Never mind... there it is, just as you expect from Tex by now.

"By what means?" You ask, leaning on your elbows, which rest securely enough on your exposed knees. "I'm _broke_, dude. So unless you can make me shit quarters outta my ass, we're kinda screwed."

"You don't need to pay me in cash, although, I'd _prefer_ it..." Tex trails off, setting the Sniper Rifle aside for a moment. "From what I've gathered, the Reds found out you're a chick, but the Blues seem clueless."

"How'd you figure _that_ out?" You can't help but ask, a bit intrigued as you tilt your head only slightly.

Tex shrugs, smiling a bit at you, reminding you of that one Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. "Well, if Tucker knew you were a chick, I'm pretty sure there'd be alot more innuendo then there already is over the coms."

You nod at that, seeing her point pretty quickly. "So, what exactly do you need from me, Tex? I can't go on any missions or deal with any Freelancer bullshit."

"I don't need that, Grif. I just need information; little things, things someone like you could find out and tell me." Tex explains.

You stare at Tex, not believing a word of it. "_Seriously_? _Dude_, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the _'secret spy type'_."

Tex rolls her violent eyes, making a scar on her cheek stretch a bit, yet it doesn't look the least bit painful. "You don't _need to be_, Grif. Look, you spend all day with the Reds, and I spend all day with the Blues. If push comes to shove and I need to kill off a Red, a little info on them would be nice." She explains easily to you.

You smile, grinning as you slowly put together exactly what Tex is talking about. "Oh, I see what you're doing... you totally feel _bad_ for me and shit, but you don't wanna fucking admit it!" You yell, pointing at her evilly.

You swear to God, you see Tex blush, if only in the slightest yet most noticeable bit. "_W-what_? _No_, _fuck that_! This is a _real job_ I need done, I don't feel _bad_ for anyone!" Tex insists, still trying to keep up the act.

It's your time to roll your eyes, Destiny Grif. "_Bullshit_." You state, grinning as you cross your arms, leaning back a bit as you relax your eyebrows. "You're just too badass to admit it outloud."

Tex slaps her hand across your mouth, glaring heatedly at you. "Fine, fine! _Yeah_, _whatever_, so I feel a _bit_ bad for you, but it's not me being _nice_ or anything, _got it_!?" She doesn't let up, her glare sharp like iron swords. "But I swear to _God_, Destiny Grif. You say _one word_ about this..."

"Yeah yeah, you'll skin me alive, I've heard it a _million_ times." You say, chuckling a bit as you sit your feet up on the tiny crate that you and Tex have decided to use as a bedroom table. "Now are you gonna help me paint my nails and feel like a princess or what?"

* * *

The next morning, you feel just a bit less wary around Agent Texas. Yes, she is still a badass who can rip your lungs out, but _damn_, she is really good with nail polish, probably the reason why your fingernails and toenails are painted sherbert orange under your gloves and boots, but you digress. The Blues are just a bit wary. In the makeshift kitchen for example, Caboose keeps giving you odd looks. His reason, of course, is that he must wonder how you're allowed to sleep with girls in the same bedroom and he can only sleep with Church and Tucker.

Tucker seems to be the same way, but with much more nosiness ("Why're you with Tex?" "Are you dudes a _thing_?" "You know, you can _totally_ invite me if you want."), but you can put up with that. After all, weren't you a bit nosy when Kaiden used to come home late, hickies on his neck and a shit eating grin plastered to his face? Oh yes, you were _definitely_ protective of your baby brother... but a very large part of you doubts that Tucker's intentions are to _'protect you'_ from Tex.

But the worst is by far Church, who glares at you like you bastardized whatever church of Christ his family might be named for. _Wait_, isn't Church actually _Jewish_? You don't remember, all you remember is that it's either Tex or Church that celebrates Hannakauh alone in their bedroom. But, frankly, you don't care either way, as long as dinner on Christmas is big. Suddenly, while you're seated on a small crate next to Donut, Simmons enters, rubbing his head with a loud yawn.

"Hey, Grif." Simmons greets, smiling at you lazily as he adjusts his geeky glasses, waving at you as he grabs himself a ration pack labeled _'Simmons 2.0'. _"Sleep well?"

"Dude, when do I _not_ sleep well?" You ask sarcastically, smiling in the way only you can. You know that Simmons is fully aware of it too. You don't need to have your face show for him to know it's there. "How was sleeping with Sarge and Donut?"

"As nice as you'd imagine." Simmons replies, sighing a bit. "Here's a fun fact of the day; Donut cuddles in his sleep."

You make a fake, immature gagging noise. Church snorts, Tucker continues to stare at you curiously, Caboose giggles, Donut retorts something you don't catch, Sarge complains about one of the Blues snoring, Simmons rolls his eyes, and Tex continues to shine her Sniper Rifle. Everything feels so natural, yet you can tell it isn't. You've never felt this nice before, not since mom and dad were still _'Mom &amp; Dad'_, not since you could still perfectly imagine Kaiden's goofy grin, not since you last saw your baby brother who may or may not be alive.

Out of nowhere, it feels likes it's all too much. It's _too_. _Fucking_. _Much_. Your hands are shaking, tears are falling underneath your helmet ("Why're you crying, sis? Where's mommy?"). Your heart is going a million beats a second, everything feels like it's blurring and vibrating all at once ("When's daddy coming back, Des? Why aren't you answering me?"). You feel sick, you no longer want the rations in your hands, but that's okay, they fell to the floor a few minutes ago, seeing as you couldn't hold them anymore.

God, everyone is staring at you, and it isn't helping. You don't want to have a panic attack, you don't _want_ to be screaming and crying like your mother or _want_ your hands to shake like your father's... you don't _want_ Kaiden to keep asking why you're freaking out. You, Destiny Grif, rarely get panic attacks. You haven't had one since Basic, and you had purposely locked yourself into the boy's bathroom until you could breathe properly again. You shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not now.

"_Grif_, are you _okay_?" Donut asks. Lovable Donut, the one who's always given a shit about whether or not you're okay. "You're... you're _shaking_..."

Simmons looks really concerned, and God, you don't _need_ to be doing this to him, you _really_ don't. "I'm sorry." You manage to whimper out. It's loud enough where everyone hears you, even Tex, who's on the other side of the room.

And then out of nowhere, you're not on the crate you'd been using as a chair anymore, you're lying on your side on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Sarge is saying something, Donut is shaking your shoulder, Simmons is freaking out, Tucker doesn't know what to say, Caboose is sobbing, Church is yelling to someone, and Tex is running towards you. The happy scene is now gone, replaced with a horrifying reality. But that's alright, after all, someone like you isn't _supposed_ to care, _right_?

* * *

When you wake up, you're undressed and only in an overly large Red Team hoodie, along with pink pajama pants that are way too big on you. You recognize the hoodie as Simmons's immediately, if not for the smell but the familiar feeling. The pajama pants are by no doubts Donut's, judging by the fruity smells and the soft texture. You sit up, looking around to find yourself back in the room you and Tex slept in last night. You rub your throat, feeling a bit sore, while your face still feels a bit damp from sweat.

You check the clock; you've been out cold for forty minutes.

A wave of panic threats to overcome you, but you hold it back, shaking your head wildly. What happened is your fault in your mind, seeing as you're too _old_ to be having a panic attack, Destiny Grif.

"Whatever the fuck you're doing to yourself, cut it out." Tex orders from across the room. She's in the same clothes she wore last night, and she seems oddly concerned for you.

"I shouldn't be having a goddamn _panic attack_, Tex." You snap back, glaring at the beautiful blonde with as much hatred as you can possibly muster.

Tex shakes her head, taking a seat on the makeshift table. "Look, you had a panic attack, everyone does at some point, so stop treating yourself like shit about it and tell me exactly what happened, Grif."

You sigh, rubbing your eyes a bit. "I just... everyone was actually _okay_ for once. No fighting, no killing, no death. It was good, and... it reminded me of my home-life, _before_ shit hit the fan."

Tex nods in understanding, motioning for you to explain further. "Well... my dad left my mom after awhile. Guess he got sick of raising two little kids and wanted out. My mom followed a bit afterwards. She left to join a fucking circus, leaving me to watch my baby brother. But he got drafted after a few years, so I left instead of him. If you think I don't stand a chance in war, Kaiden is _five times_ worse." You explain.

"That makes sense." Tex states.

"Wait... that's _it_?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at the woman before you. "No insults? No _'you should've stayed home, kid'_? You don't think I'm _nuts_?"

Tex shrugs, seemingly unaffected by your tragedy. "Everyone has a tragedy, Grif. Even I do, but I'm not sharing it with you or anything like that. It's understandable that you kinda flipped your shit back there, it happens to everyone. If you're ever feeling like that again, tell someone instead of fainting. Donut wouldn't stop _freaking out_ earlier."

You can't help but chuckle a bit at that, smiling at Tex. "_Thanks_." You say, smile ever present and refusing to leave your face.

"Don't mention it, kid." Tex says, standing up to leave. "Seriously, _don't fucking mention it_ to _anyone._ I _will_ kill you."

"Got it." You state, making a mock salute with your middle finger as Tex leaves, watching her blonde hair wave elegantly behind her.

* * *

"So, you're a chick now?"

You glance up, eying Tucker curiously from your side of a comic book held safely in your hands. He's staring at you like a hungry dog, ready to beg for a juicy steak. You're tempted to tell Tucker no, but you can't exactly lie that well. Besides, he along with everyone else probably saw you out of armor during your panic attack. Currently, you're back in the makeshift kitchen, relaxing while Church and Tex argue about something really dumb involving sleeping arrangements.

Bungie rests on your shoulder, apparently on guard duty while Simmons helps Sarge work on the Warthog outside on the beach. Bungie growls at Tucker, not at all liking the man for talking to his master's _'mate'_. Donut is off with Caboose you think, either coloring pictures, decorating, or... _something else_ (You'd rather not know if you can help it). The comic book you're reading is an old Spiderman one, but that's not important right now; Tucker more or less eye-fucking you kinda is.

"_Maybe_." You answer, flipping a page of the comic book carelessly. "What's it matter to you?"

Tucker scoffs, smiling brightly. "_Dude_, if I'd known there was a sexy _chick_ under that armor... I would've convinced you to play Strip Poker with me instead of that other shit."

You roll your eyes, bating Bungie away when he starts to nibble on your comic book. "Nice try. That might've worked if you had found out _before_ I started dating Simmons." It actually might've worked to be honest.

"Well... I'm always open if you need me." Tucker explains, winking as seductively as he can at you.

You pretend to lose his phone number when he gives to you, Grif. You actually stick it in your armor pocket where no one can find it but you.

* * *

A year passes. You end up back in Blood Gulch by some cruel deity's wishes, Donut gets crushed (You _think_?) by a huge spaceship, and now you have yet to find out what is inside of said spaceship.

So basically it's a pretty normal day.

The Blues pop by a few times, one of which may or may not be pregnant, which is confirmed true after they start giving birth to a hideous baby boy alien thingy in their base. You are seriously tempted to laugh about this, however, there are more pressing matters to attend to, like the fact that whoever is inside of the ship is using Morris Code ("It's _Morse Code_!"). You, Grif, briefly consider the fact that Donut may indeed be dead. Poor Donut, you'll miss him like a sister. But still; Morse Code first, dead sister-figure last.

Sarge suggests using some kind of radiation to become the Incredible Hulk. You suggest calling Donut's mom. Neither solution happens, but at the very least, the door is opening of it's own accord. Wait... _what_? You stare, eyes wide underneath the orange helmet and darker orange visor as your baby brother, Kaiden Grif, the same boy who once threw rotten eggs and mayonnaise at the high school principal's car, steps out of the large and terrifying spaceship.

The only reason you know it's Kaiden is because his helmet is off, and his grin is wide and happy as always. He doesn't look much different; his hair is still hazel colored, his eyes are bright green, and his skin matches your own. He looks happy to see you, waving at you happily as he hops off of the Pelican's backdoor, running over and scooping you up in a huge hug, seeing as he has the strength of eight fully grown men.

"Big sis!" He yells, holding you close, making the yellow armor he wears clink against your orange version of the same suit. "I've been looking _all over_ for you! Glad I hacked this ship and went to find you instead of that shitty group of soldiers! How you been, Des?"

You, Destiny Grif, may or may not lose your shit.

"WHAT THE EVER-LIVING _FUCK_, KAI!?" You scream. Simmons yelps at the sound that he's rarely heard, Sarge's eyes get wide, Kaiden is unaffected. "What are you _doing here_, I told you to _stay home_!"

Kaiden shrugs, as he usually does when you yell at him for making a dumbass decision. "I came to see you, sis. After dad left for the circus, you always took care of me. Thought I may as well return the favor."

"Whoa whoa whoa... your dad is in the _circus_?" Simmons questions, suddenly grinning from ear to ear at you. This cannot end well for you. "You just made at least twenty percent of my insults more accurate. What was your dad in the circus anyhow?"

"Well, ya know how circuses have a fat lady _and_ a clown? Well, my dad plays _BOTH_, because he's, _like_, _super talented_." Kaiden explains, running his mouth before you can put a stop to it.

"_Kai_!" You yell, glaring at the younger man as he stands a head taller than you, smiling oh-so innocently. "Stop embarrassing me! Now you get your ass back on that ship, or I'll drag you there kicking and screaming!"

Sarge steps in, apparently with far more_ 'important things' _to discuss. "Uh... _actually_, we could _use_ the reinforcements. So, why'd Command send _you_?"

"I'm here to replace the guy who's gonna be promoted to captain!" Kaiden explains simply, as if you all should've known that from the beginning. "Seeing as, you know, your leader _died_ of an _aspirin overdose_ or something."

"Dead captain? Sarge is a Sargent, not a captain. Also, I'm pretty sure he's not _dead_... unless plan Escape to Alaska needs to be put into action." You explain, ready to take off for Alaska in an instant.

"Well, somebody's _gotta_ be dead. I'm here to replace him!" Kaiden repeats, waving his arms in the air. "I can't just tell them it was a mistake, they might send me home."

"_Good_!" You yell, glaring at Kaiden because, _yeah_, this is the last _fucking_ straw. "I told you to stay home, I told you to not go, and _look_ at what you did! Now you're stuck in a motherfucking _war-zone_, _and_ I broke my promise to dad now!"

Kaiden suddenly stares at you, frozen. "_Wait_... you made a promise to _dad_, about _what_?"

You breath deeply, much like your father used to do. "Look, the day he left... he made me _promise_ to stop fighting and to protect you. I already broke rule one, but now... _dammit_, I can't even keep _one_ promise to him..." You trail off, trying to get a handle on yourself. You're supposed to be a lazy, good-for-nothing, dumbass soldier, but you're turning into an overly emotional bitch in seconds.

"Destiny, why're you so worked up about this?"

"_Because_!" You shout, voice ear-poppingly loud. "Because I was _close_ with dad! You don't remember it, but I _do_! We did everything together, and then he took off, and so did mom after only a _fucking _year. I had to take care of you, and then pretend all day that nothing was wrong! Look, I _get it_, you want to help me, and I'm thankful for that shit, but please... I can't lose you too." And wow, when did tears start falling under your helmet?

"_Destiny_..." Kaiden trails off. He approaches you then, without hesitation, and hugs you close. God, you feel like a fucking crybaby bitch, but you aren't exactly in control of your goddamn feelings right now, are you? "I'm sorry, sis."

You don't really hear Kaiden's apology, but it registers somewhere in your brain that he's sorry and that he honestly cares, but you don't care. All you care about is the fact that right now, you feel pretty damn helpless. You hate feeling this way, Grif, but it can't be helped. You're only just now seeing your brother after who knows how long and you've been having a harder time than usual. For now, you'll enjoy the comfort of Kaiden's hug, and pretend that it'll all be okay.

But you know it won't be.

* * *

"I heard you had a bit of a meltdown today, that right?"

Tex has her hands on her hips, looking at you expectantly. You suspect that Kaiden told her, seeing as he's now on Blue Team, and you're already planing on ways to get back at the little jerk for telling Tex of all people. You're currently alone in your room, keeping to yourself while Simmons digs out Sarge ("Why won't you fucking _help me_!?" "Dude, _you're_ the one who buried him in the first place." "Oh God, you're _right_! Sarge, _no_!"). You like having the time to yourself to just think and be lazy, but it seems Tex is gonna ruin it for you.

"Well, you heard wrong." You claim, resting with your arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling, listening to Fall Out Boy from the radio station (There are only a few stations in Blood Gulch, and Tex keeps rock 'n roll playing 24/7).

"It was your brother who told me." Tex explains, tilting her head in a questioning manner, studying you. "You look uneasy."

"Kaiden knows how to lie. Wouldn't be the first time he has." You state.

"That's not all it is, is it? You're worried about him being so far from home and on the battlefield. Can't say I blame ya, the kid isn't the _brightest_ light bulb if you know what I mean." Tex points out, settling at the foot of your bed.

You glare at Tex, letting yourself forget who exactly it is you're dealing with. "Watch it, Tex. He's one smart son of a bitch once you get to know him. Yeah, he doesn't have much fucking common sense, but no one does these days. He knows shit, Tex. _Don't_ underestimate him."

Tex almost laughs outright, but holds it back, a giddy smile replacing a would-be laugh marathon. "Alright, Grif... whatever you say. But keep your eyes on your little brother, because if I hear him hit on me one more time-"

"-I'll skin him alive when I'm not busy." You interrupt, continuing to relax.

Tex gives you a long stare. "But... you're not even _doing_ anything."

You sit up, yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, smirking at Tex. "Well, that explains why Red Team never gets anything done, _huh_?"

Tex can't hold back her laughter as she lays on her back on your bed, her laugh echoing through the mostly empty base. You think you hear Simmons yell something from out front, but you can't hear him over Tex's surprisingly loud laughter. After a few seconds, you break into a fit of giggles yourself, until it turns into full blown laughing that, by Simmons's calculations, _'Can cure cancer'_. For a moment, you forget about Kaiden being so far from home, you forget you're at war, you forget Tex is a scary-ass Freelancer-ninja-killer, you forget that your dad just up and left you all those years ago...

For a moment, you're only Destiny Grif, chatting with your best friend from college in your shared dorm, enjoying your life for once.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

**A/N: I spent a whole night re-reading and editing this piece. You're welcome. Please R&amp;R, it would really make my day!**

**~CabooseHeart.**


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